Anyone but Him

by Cassie Graham

  I don’t want to fight. And, I know this is a worthy fight. I should be able to throw my love at him. I should be showering in it. He doesn’t give it out often. If anything, he holds it to himself. I should bask in the perfection of him being able to give me his heart.

  Yet…why can’t I?

  “Dammit, Jennings!” I rub my eyes. “Just because I can’t find my place doesn’t mean I’m lost. Okay, well, maybe a little bit. But, have you ever thought maybe I’m not ready? I—I don’t know what I’m doing, okay? I’ve never actually been in love. Hell, my own parents couldn’t stand each other. How am I supposed to love when I have zero frame of reference?” I’m out of breath when I’m done with my rant, my chest rising and falling in an erratic manner.

  He looks at me stunned and scoffs. “You have no frame of reference?” He stands, getting agitated. “No. Frame. Of. Reference.” He rubs his jaw, beginning to pace. “No. You know what? Fuck that. I’ve never been in love. I’ve never actually felt it.” He stops his pacing and places his hand on his chest, looking into my eyes.

  It’s then that I see it. Something big has changed in him. He’s not only determined, he’s hell bent on finding a way to bring me to the light.

  “Now, I feel it. Now—now I get it,” he says like it’s a damn epiphany.

  I shake my head, covering my quivering mouth. I know what he’s feeling, because I feel it too. I just don’t know if I can actually admit it with a clear conscience.

  He waves his hands between us. “I understand, Whit. All of those lovesick morons I’ve portrayed on screen? All the ridiculous dialogue I had to memorize in the name of love?” He shakes his head, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. He snaps his fingers. “You’re it.”

  It?

  “I don’t want to live without you ever again.”

  “Listen, I get it. I’m being crazy. I don’t want to be like this, but I have to be sure before I can actually do this with you. Dating? It’s easy. But being in love? That’s a lot more difficult. Hell, I’ve never even actually used the word.”

  “You did, though,” he argues.

  “Once.”

  “That was enough. I can see it in your eyes. The way you look at me. I’m not the only one, either. You’re not fooling anyone but yourself.”

  Maybe if everyone quit telling me how I feel, maybe I’d be able to decipher it for myself.

  “I’ll get there, okay? Just hang on. For a little bit longer,” I plead.

  “This isn’t a deal breaker, Whit,” he reassures me. “I’ll love you, even if you can’t love me back.”

  “Jennings, I’m not worthy of your love.”

  And there it is…

  “What?” he asks, looking like I slapped him.

  “I need to pay for what I’ve done. And, having you willingly love me, that doesn’t feel like justice. I’m getting off easy.”

  Jennings begins to pace, this time looking so pent up with anger, he might actually throw something.

  “Listen to me, Whitley. If justice is you being unhappy for the rest of your life, that is complete and utter bullshit. Why can’t you let go?”

  I huff. “Because Jennings…because the feeling I get every time when I think about Sydney makes me physically ill. I don’t know how you don’t feel the same. You were in that courthouse. You saw and heard everything I did. I’m not worthy of your love. I don’t deserve it.”

  “You do not get to make that decision. What you did in the past does not define who you are now. I could understand if you didn’t feel any regret or remorse for the small role you played in Sydney’s downfall. But, this is so much bigger than you. You’re being selfish and self-destructive.”

  “Selfish?” I laugh, somberly.

  Dammit, he’s right.

  “Jennings, I want to love you! God, I do love you, okay? I do. But, if I admit it, it could get taken away from me.”

  “Why?” he debates. “Because your life is such complete shit?” He shakes his head. “Jesus, Whitley. Look around you. You have a pretty damn great life. You have so many people who genuinely love you and you can’t get your head out of the past enough to see it.”

  “Did you just hear what I said?” I shout, making him listen. He’s right. What am I doing? I’m letting what I did ruin what I’m doing. That is no way to live. “I love you, dammit. I love you so fucking much that you make me question everything I ever did before you. Everything I did before you seems insignificant because I didn’t have you in my life.” I sit down, feeling lightheaded. “You win,” I whisper. “I don’t want you to doubt me or my love for you anymore. So, here it is—I love you. I love you, Jennings Cohen.”

  The red from his face disappears. Kneeling in front of me, he bends on his knees holding my waist. “Now, was that so hard?”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Shut up.”

  Breathing deep, he kisses my neck. “Our love only makes what you did in the past that much more irrelevant. It won’t go away. But, life isn’t about rehashing the past every time you get something good in your life. It’s taking those things by the balls and holding on for dear life.”

  “When did you get so smart?” I joke. “I’m going to try to be the woman who I told you I wanted to be in Kansas. No more living in the dark.”

  He tilts his head, shrugging his shoulder. “I don’t know. I kind of love the dark. That’s the only way to see the stars.”

  I smile. “Okay, let’s only live in the dark at night. Deal?”

  “Perfect,” he approves, settling his lips on my collarbone.

  “HOW DO YOU FEEL, BIG MAN?” I ask Blaine while he stands in front of the mirror adjusting his tie.

  He chuckles, concentrating on knotting the fabric. “I’m good. Ready.”

  “Good.”

  There’s a knock on the door.

  “Get out of here, Holli!” I shout.

  I had to pry her away last night even though she was the one who told me that Blaine had to be in his bed, away from her, by midnight. All morning long, both of them have been strategically trying to see each other. I thought being the Best Man would entail more responsibilities than keeping the two nauseating lovebirds away from each other.

  But when I open the door, it’s not Holli or Whitley. It’s Lark.

  Shit.

  I look down, trying not to make eye contact.

  He smirks and I know he knows. It’s instant. The gears in his mind click and I know it’s over.

  “Uhh, Blaine. I need to talk to Lark outside,” I tell him, but I’m already pushing him out of the door.

  Lark’s leer never vanishes. If anything, it grows bigger the further down the hall we walk. I open a door and look inside the room, making sure it’s clear. Reluctantly, I step inside and wait for Lark to follow.

  The door clicks and he begins to chuckle. Sadistic and heartless, each bark of laughter agitates me. I know what this means. I know what it means for my life. I know what it means for Whitley.

  I’m screwed.

  “Well,” he says, stroking his chin with his hand, looking arrogant. “I don’t know how I missed it. I gotta give you credit, cousin, you fooled us all.”

  I pace in swift strides. “Lark, listen…” I begin.

  “Does Whit know?”

  I fumble, tripping over my own feet. “No.”

  “Damn, you really are a great actor. You somehow managed for fool everyone in your life. How does it feel?” Lark derides. “It’s gotta feel good. To know you are so incredibly fucked up that you’d lie just to have a career. I thought you two might be one and the same the night you took Whitley home after Shannon outed me in front of everyone. I just didn’t think anyone would be so deranged to actually pull the veil over everyone’s eyes like that. And, I probably wouldn’t have figured it out, had I not noticed your little tick.”

  My tick? Christ. I haven’t had to worry about it in so long.

  I had a slight impulse to move my head as a kid. Brought on by stress, it stopped a yea
r into high school. No one really knew about it.

  No one but Lark.

  It wasn’t long after I had turned ten when Lark, my precious douche socket of a cousin, decided to lock me in a cupboard as a joke. He was only eight, but I was a small ten year old. It was an extremely hot day in Alabama, and it only took minutes for the boathouse to heat up to a temperature that made me think I would die. My body began to convulse and I blacked out after just minuets of being locked away. Lark stood outside the cabinet, laughing. I don’t know how long I stayed in there, trapped, but my mom found me unconscious, cursing at Lark. After that, stress triggered a little tick of my head. Many sessions of therapy later, I figured out how to control it. It has been years since I’ve worried about the anxiety creeping in. I mean—I did have my attacks at the beginning of my career, but those were easily maintained. Eventually, it got easier to block out the fear, but apparently the worry of being found out by Whitley brought it back on. It was probably my body’s messed up way of telling me to just tell her the truth.

  I groan and mutter under my breath. “Are you going to tell her?”

  Lark crosses his arms. He still towers over me, but I’m not scared of him anymore.

  He softens and clasps my shoulder. “Nah. Not today.”

  “Alright,” I say. Because at least this’ll give me time to tell her myself.

  It’s been weeks since Oliver has had any communication with Whitley. They just fell out of contact, so it really hasn’t been on my mind. Keeping up the façade didn’t seem like a big deal anymore. I was hoping for out-of-sight-out-of-mind scenario.

  “That doesn’t mean I won’t tell her, if you don’t. If anyone knows how it feels to lose Whitley Hayes because of lies, it’s me. Being on the end of that stick sucks. Do right by her and tell her.”

  I give him a skeptical look. “You’re giving me relationship advice? I’m dating your ex.”

  He shrugs. “I’ve already lost her. You may be lying, but I can see why you did it.”

  “And why exactly aren’t you pissed? I mean—I lied to you. Hell, to our whole family.”

  He looks indifferent. “Being lied to doesn’t hurt as much when you haven’t connected with someone in years. You lying to me isn’t a huge deal. We haven’t talked since you lived in Alabama. And, I could be a dick and be pissed that you came to school as Oliver, but you can’t exactly go as Jennings, either. I get it. And if Whitley wasn’t in the picture, I’d let it go. But, you need to the right thing. Tell her.”

  “I know, but the wrath of Whitley doesn’t sound like a train I’d willingly hop on, if you know what I mean,” I laugh. “But, even more than that, I love her, I don’t want to lose her.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Lark sympathizes.

  “So…we’re cool?”

  Lark puts his hands in his suit pants pocket. “We’re cool. And, your secret is safe for now.”

  “Hey, Handsome,” Whitley greets with a knowing smile, walking down the corridor in a hunter green dress that hugs her curves just perfect. The light fabric swishes, and the diamonds around her chest make her look angelic. Her blonde hair cascades down her back in waves and it bounces as she makes her way toward me. Her happiness is evident as her best friend follows close behind.

  “You look,” I stutter, at a loss for words. “You look absolutely, disgustingly stunning.”

  Whitley laughs, blushing, looking to the ground. “Disgustingly stunning? I’d call that a win.”

  “Very much so.” I try my hardest to keep my hands off of her. I don’t want to ruin her make up or her hair, but she begs to be kissed. So, I pull her to me, her scent engulfing me. I kiss her neck, making my way up her jaw to her lips. A hint of strawberries overwhelms my taste buds.

  “Gag,” Holli quips, sticking her finger down her throat as she passes.

  Whitley and I pull apart, both of us snickering.

  “You look beautiful, Holli Fucking Sloane,” I say.

  “In about thirty minutes I’ll be Holli Fucking Holden,” she announces with a gleeful tone.

  “True.” I wink.

  Keeping my arm around Whitley, I take the box out of my jacket pocket. Presenting it to her, she steps back, her eyes wide.

  “Well, well, well, Mr. Cohen, what ever is this?” Whitley prompts.

  “Just a little something.” I offer the small, velvet box. “Open it.”

  With a giddy grin, she pops open the box, her eyes growing as big as saucers. “You didn’t.”

  Bouncing on the pads of my feet, I nod. “I did. Turn it over.”

  Her dainty fingers grasp the cool metal, reading the inscription.

  “Jennings,” she whispers.

  “Do you like it?”

  She shakes her head up and down, unable to form words.

  “Good. Now, come here so I can put it on.”

  She shuffles to me, dumbfounded.

  The rose gold bracelet glimmers in the twinkle lights above us.

  “It’s only in the darkness that stars can shine,” Whitley says, reading the engraving.

  I clasp the bracelet around her wrist, and watch at she admires it.

  “I love you,” she murmurs, it’s almost a whisper, but means as much as if she’d shouted it to the room of guests just outside.

  Bringing my lips to her forehead, I smile. “I know and I love you.”

  “Alright, lovebirds,” Holli speaks up. “That was nauseatingly adorable, but can I get married now?”

  We laugh.

  Whitley kisses my cheek. Looping her arm through Holli’s as they walk to the end of the corridor where gigantic wooden and metal doors open to the vineyard.

  I stand back, letting Whit and Holli exchange words. Whitley grasps Holli’s hands, speaking with a bright grin on her face. After they hug, Whitley lets go, turning, gesturing me to join them.

  “Ready?” I ask Holli.

  “Damn straight, Best Man. Take care of my girl, will you?” She signals Whitley, adjusting her dress.

  “You got it,” I promise, placing Whitley’s hand in the crook of my arm.

  “So, Holli and Blaine leave at seven. I’m thinking we should be out of here by nine,” Whitley says as I spin her around the dance floor.

  “Yeah? What do you want to do after?”

  She purses her lips, looking to the side. “I’m on a bit of a high. How do you feel about going dancing?”

  I wiggle my hips. “Can’t get enough of these moves?”

  She giggles. “Exactly.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll call Stewart and have them take your parents home, and have him come back here. Want to change at your house before?”

  She shakes her head. “Nah, I brought clothes with me. Do you?”

  “Nope. I brought extra, too.”

  “Great minds.”

  Her lips move and my eyes go to them. “Yep. I’m rubbing off on you.”

  She shoves me. “Shut up.”

  “So, here’s the deal. We can go to The Lost Society, downtown or we can go to the bar that you love in Malibu…what’s it called? Vita,” I offer, driving down the freeway. “But at the bar, we’d be alone. At TLS, the whole wedding party will be there.”

  All of the guests decided to move the party to the club in L.A. because the wedding ended so early. Well, all of the younger guests, anyway. Finn and Whitley’s friend, Pippa, hit it off and left together. I told them we’d meet them there, but if I can get Whit alone, I’d do that in a heartbeat.

  “We should probably go to The Lost Society. Everyone is there. Plus, I didn’t get to visit with Finn much, and did you see him and Pippa? Good Lord.” She fans herself. “Go Finn.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, the guy needs to get laid. Plus, Bradley and Sophia should be there, too.”

  Whitley smacks my arm, letting her hand fall to my hand. “Oh, good. I’m so glad your parents came to the wedding, too. I think it’s safe to say our families are planning our first child’s name.”

  I snort and give her a side
look. “I know, but damn, I’ll need a couple tries first.”

  She snickers, again. “So, we’ll go to the club for a bit and go home?”

  “Alright, Pretty Girl.”

  “Whitley!” Pippa shouts over the music.

  A few drinks in and Whitley…she’s a whole new woman. The consumed woman stayed outside while the fun and flirty girl hangs out with everyone.

  “What?” she screams back at Pippa.

  Pippa not-so-subtly points at me. “Do you even understand that we have hot ass brothers? Have you seen Finn?” she whispers. “Fuck. Me.” She falls back against the booth.

  Whitley giggles, nodding her head. Then, she looks back at me and winks, ooing. “Yes. Fuck me.”

  Hot damn.

  Bradley, my best friend, coughs across the table and Sophia blushes into her glass of wine, watching our exchange. They weren’t able to attend the wedding, because of a charity event, but they were able to meet us after.

  A gentle melody booms from the speakers and I bring my mouth to Whitley’s ear. “Dance with me, Pretty Girl.”

  She gulps and scoots out of the booth, waiting for me. Pulling her by the hand, we move to the middle of the crowded dance floor. The lights flash red and blinding white, moving around in circular motions.

  “Jenns,” Whitley breathes as my arms snake around her waist, holding her tightly to my body.

  “Whit,” I answer.

  “I have something to tell you,” she says, pulling back to look at me.

  My eyes downcast. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  She looks down, seeming sad and a bit more sober. “I—uh, I have some news,” she rambles. “I’ve been wanting to tell you all week, but we’ve been so busy with the wedding, I haven’t had any time to tell you.”

  “Hey guys,” someone announces, breaking our conversation, tapping my shoulder. “Can I get a dance with Whitley?”

  I turn to see Lark with a snarky look and bloodshot eyes. He bounces in his shoes and I hold on to Whitley with a firmer grip.

  “No, thanks,” Whitley answers, trying to be cordial.

  “Just one dance, Whitty,” Lark pleads, giving her eyes that beg to be punched by me.